


The Calling

by dracoqueen22



Series: Tethers [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Tyrael's dreams are filled of his god, and he wakes with the knowledge of a quest he must undertake, one his cousin -- Celeste -- is quite eager to join.





	The Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original series based tangentially on a DnD background, which is why I've been lovingly referring to it as my DnD adjacent series. I've borrowed the structure from DnD and some of the races/classes/spells/etc, but the world itself is my own creation, as are the deities, the cities, etc.

Tyrael knew this voice.

The sibilant, seductive whisper mere inches from his ear, sending trills up his spine as it whispered to him, offering promises, making entreaties, crooning of the sweetest things and the most terrible darkness. It spoke in riddles, as most deities did, but this time, the voice had never been clearer.

'I have a task for you, my favored,' Cyrillus murmured, and in his sleep, Tyrael tossed over onto his belly, fingers twisting around the sheets. 'There is a journey you must take.'

He knelt before his god, because kneeling was the only way to convey his respect. Perhaps a touch of fear as well, but what mortal didn't rightly fear their god?

"Whatever you ask of me, I will do," Tyrael bowed his head, presented his fealty, as he knew Cyrillus preferred.

His deity swirled around him, an image without true substance, smelling faintly of pinesap and woodfire. 'And that, my love, is why you are my favorite.'

A warm touch on Tyrael's nape and the goosepimples spread across his skin.

"Where would you have me go?" Tyrael asked.

'South.' Cyrillus floated around him, ghostly fingers tickling along the back of Tyrael's shoulders. 'Toward the Argent Sea. Find a ship. The Titan Lily.'

"And then where?"

A soft laugh, born of whispers and secrets, promises of something dark and sultry. 'Find the Titan Lily first. Then, we shall see.' What felt like lips pressed to Tyrael's forehead. 'I am trusting you, my love. Make me proud.'

"My life is yours," Tyrael murmured, and the spiritual presence around him swelled with warmth, wisping across his skin like a morning breeze.

'Yes, it is,' Cyrillus whispered.

Tyrael jerked awake with so much force he jolted on the bed, eyes snapping open, breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as if he'd run a marathon, and his hands ached where they twisted in the sheets. The medallion he wore around his neck burned with cold, and he twisted onto his side, fumbling for the metal.

It glowed in the dim light of the morning, the faintest blue highlighting the three teardrop swirls, chasing each other around a single, druin rune. He closed his fingers around the medallion, the chill of it warming against his skin.

"What's wrong?"

Tyrael dropped the necklace and pulled himself upright as a tall, flaxen-haired half-elf sauntered into his room, brown eyes suspiciously bright for what had to be an obscene time in the morning. Elias carried a tray that smelled of coffee, and he kicked the door shut behind him.

"Nothing," Tyrael dismissed with a smile. "Please tell me there's coffee on that tray."

"There is. Thought I might surprise you with breakfast in bed." Elias leaned down for a kiss, his long hair falling over his shoulders and tickling Tyrael's nape. "What kind of bedmate do you take me for?"

"The best kind." Tyrael drew up his legs as Elias set the tray across his knees then scooted under the covers beside him. He was warm, where the chill of the morning had caught Elias' skin.

Elias chuckled and whisked off the tray cover, revealing pancakes soaked in syrup. Tyrael's stomach grumbled appreciatively.

"The very, very best kind." He cupped the coffee and brought it to his lips, greedily inhaling the scent of it. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably starve, knowing how often you miss your meals." Elias snorted and plucked a piece of bacon off his plate. "Want to try telling me what's wrong again? You tossed and turned all night."

Tyrael sighed and lowered his coffee. "Cyrillus spoke to me."

"Oh. Well, it's been a while for that, hasn't it?"

"He's not the most talkative of deities, no."

"Most of the old gods aren't." Elias tucked his hair behind his ears, his dark eyes turned speculative. "What did he have to say?"

Tyrael poked at his pancakes, his fork swirling the melted butter and syrup together. "Looks like I have a quest." He shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

"That's great!" Elias' eyes lit up before his brow furrowed. "Right? I mean, I can't tell if you're excited or not."

Honestly, Tyrael was torn. He'd wanted to journey, to leave their city at some point in his life. He supposed it was about time. But he didn't appreciate the vagueness of what Cyrillus asked of him. There were times he feared his deity more than loved Cyrillus, and now was one of those times. He didn't know what to expect, and relying only on his faith in Cyrillus made him uneasy.

"It will be an adventure," Tyrael said, and took another bite of his pancakes. "I will travel beyond the city. I suppose that much I can look forward to."

"You have to go alone?"

"He didn't say." Tyrael licked syrup from his lips and bumped Elias with a shoulder. "Are you offering to come with me?"

Elias rested a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. "TJ, I love you dearly, but adventuring is not in my blood." He rubbed his cheek on Tyrael's shoulder, hair tickling Tyrael's bare skin. "But I wish you well. And who knows, you could check around. I'm sure there's someone in Alduin who wants to go."

"Mmm." Tyrael ate his pancakes, but they tasted dry and sat in his belly like metal lumps. He was simultaneously excited about his upcoming quest, and dreading it. But he'd also known, from the moment he offered himself to Cyrillus' service, that the possibility of leaving his home was high.

Cyrillus didn't often speak to those on the mortal plane, but when he did, he was not one to be denied. Tyrael's accepted service was considered a great honor and a burden both. An honor no one wanted, to be fair.

Elias pressed a kiss to his shoulder and then slid off the bed, adjusting his robe as he did so. "You have a lot to think about, and I have a temple to start cleaning, so eat your breakfast and don't leave without saying goodbye, alright?"

Tyrael managed a smile. "Of course."

Elias leaned in for a quick kiss and Tyrael allowed himself to indulge, carding his free hand through Elias' fine hair and committing it to memory. Elias hummed into the kiss before he drew back, unwinding Tyrael's fingers from his hair. He brushed his lips over Tyrael's knuckles.

"You'll do amazing," he said, and patted Tyrael's hand.

Tyrael snorted. "I know that much."

Elias winked and left in a swirl of sleep robe, Tyrael watching his departure with no small amount of longing. They could have had a nice, lazy morning of pleasure, but instead, he was left eating a breakfast growing quickly cold, while dread loitered in the background.

The world could be so unfair sometimes.

Tyrael shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and gulped down his coffee. The bed was cold without Elias in it, so he had no intentions of lingering. He hopped out, setting the tray of dishes aside to be picked up by one of the servants later, and dressed quickly, bare feet protesting the equally bare floor. He hoped Elias finished weaving his new rug soon.

Then again, if he was leaving, he supposed it didn't matter. That thought made him pause, mid-lace of his breeches. He glanced over at his armor, sitting on the stand, polished and ready to be used. He wouldn't don it until he was ready to walk out the door and down the road, out of Anduin, but it was a reminder.

Cyrillus' symbol gleamed back at him. Tyrael, as part of his service, polished the set of steel every day, making sure it shone. Soon, it would be battered and worn. The world was a dangerous place.

He knew he was up to the challenge. He didn't know it would come so soon.

Tyrael splashed water from the basin on his face, wiped the syrup from his lips, and pulled his long, thin braids into a low gather at the base of his neck. He shoved his feet into wool socks and a pair of boots, and gathered himself to greet the world.

Cyrillus, despite being an old god, did not have a large temple or a large following. He was a particular deity, particular about who he granted his boons to, who he gave favor, who he spoke to. Tyrael was his only paladin, and Cyrillus had no clerics. The only other residents of the small temple were the wards who assisted Tyrael with the upkeep.

Tyrael paused to light a single stick of incense at the offering altar, the thin curls of smoke rising to the ceiling and dispersing against the relief above him, the paint cracked and faded with age. That would have been Tyrael's next task, to arrange and assist with the restoration of the relief. He supposed that would have to wait as well, not that anyone could forget the part Cyrillus played in the historical battle against the Unferth, eons upon eons ago.

No temple wards were in immediate sight, but he heard the clatter of dishware in the small, adjoining kitchen. Tyrael would have to appoint someone to lead the care of the temple while he was gone. Perhaps Mina. She was the most level-headed of the three wards. He'd have Elias look in on them from time to time as well. As Headward of Diaphonus' temple, he would know what needed to be done, and Cyrillus had never objected to Elias' presence in the temple.

Tyrael left the temple behind, stepping into a crisp Autumn morning, the bite of the air tasting sweet on his tongue. It tasted of smoke as well, from many, many hearthfires working hard to warm homes and cook breakfasts. It was early yet, but Alduin was already bustling, residents moving swiftly through the streets to their morning tasks.

He did what any other young one would do when faced with a difficult task -- he went home. He threaded the narrow, cobbled streets, minding his boots on the loose stones, greeting the familiar faces he passed. Most recognized him on sight, Cyrillus' chosen being rare enough, but Anduin was too well-populated for Tyrael to know those outside his sphere of community.

His family lived on the outskirts of the residential quarter. While they worshipped the Green Lady, they did not serve in her stead. The majority of Anduin's population served a deity in some shape or form, but there would never be any work done if the entirety focused only on temples and worship.

Tyrael opened the gate, stepped lightly through the overgrown garden, and before he could get his hand on the latch, the door flew open with a jingle of the bells his father insisted on hanging on the knob.

"I'm going with you," his cousin, Celeste, declared from the doorway, her eyes bright and her kinked hair wild around her round face. "I don't care what Auntie says. I know what Berenthas told me."

Tyrael blinked. "How did you know I was leaving?"

Celeste rolled her eyes. It was hard to believe she was actually older than him. "The same way you figured it out. Duh." She stepped out the door, slamming it shut behind her. "I'm going to go pack, get us some horses, then wait you for at the temple, all right?"

"I didn't invite you," Tyrael spluttered.

"I invited myself." Celeste shoulder-checked him as she stormed past, a swirl of fluttering yellow and black robes to depict her promise to Berenthas.

Tyrael didn't have the words to argue. He wouldn't have them later either. Well, at least it seemed Elias was right. Someone would join him on his journey. 

Sighing, Tyrael opened the door to his childhood home and entered, immediately greeted by the scent of cinnamon and sugar. His mouth watered. Was his father making sticky buns again? Please let it be so. Tyrael hadn't had them in ages.

He followed his nose to the kitchen, where his parents sat at the table, a plate of steaming sticky buns in the center, and two cups in front of them, curls of steam rising from the painted ceramic.

Mother rubbed her forehead, lines of stress creasing her skin. She gripped her cup with her other hand, knuckles white. Father was talking as Tyrael entered, but they both looked up, their conversation ending, when he stepped free of the doorway.

"Tyrael," Mother sighed, and gestured to the empty chair, which looked flung back from the table, as if an angry Celeste had risen from it in a huff. "Take a seat. Tell of us this quest you've been given."

"And that your cousin has decided to join," Father added, pushing the plate of buns toward Tyrael as he sat down. "And eat. You're too thin, child."

"That is not what Mother said last time." Tyrael rolled his eyes, but grabbed one. "And I'm sincerely hoping you let me take a bag for the road?" He gave his parents his best version of puppy eyes.

"Please. Put the look away. I've already bagged some for you." Father waved toward the counter, a smile on his lips. "Now. No more delaying. What is your quest?"

Tyrael sighed in echo of his mother.

This was the part he looked forward to least, even if his parents knew it would come eventually.

~

Tyrael packed, filling a travel bag with the essentials, debating the weight and size and usefulness of every item, knowing he'd have to carry it himself. He balanced it with the weight and heft of his plate armor, and was absurdly grateful that Elias had appeared to help strap him into it.

"How are you going to survive without me?" Elias laughed as he tightened a strap and Tyrael grunted at the sudden cinching.

"I honestly don't know." Tyrael pulled on his gloves, flexing his fingers in the hinged metal and chainmail. "Thank you, by the way, for looking after the temple while I'm gone. I'll owe you one."

"You already owe me several. But who's counting?" Elias leaned against his back, pressing a kiss to the curve of Tyrael's jaw.

Damn him for being taller. It simply wasn't fair.

"You come back to us alive, you hear me?" Elias said as he took Tyrael's shoulders and spun him around with a clatter-clank of armor. "If I have to leave my comfortable bed to journey out into the Hallows to find you, I shall be very put out." He slipped his hand around one of Tyrael's braids, curling it over his finger to give it a tug. "Understand?"

“Clear as crystal.” Tyrael pressed his hand to his armor, over his chest and his heart beneath. “I’d hate to make you leave that slice of heaven after all.” 

Elias rolled his eyes. “You are an asshole,” he said, but his tone was fond. His hands slid from Tyrael’s shoulders to cup his face, thumbs a soft sweep over his cheeks. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“You’ve said that already,” Tyrael said. His heart thudded in his chest, a lump rising in his throat. 

Leaving shouldn’t be this hard. 

Elias smiled, but there was something sad about it. “It doesn’t hurt to say it again. Be careful, okay?” 

“You’ve said that, too.” Tyrael grinned. “You know I’m trained to do this, right? That I was top of my class, and no one was ever able to take me down. Cyrillus is pretty bad-ass, too. Not everyone can claim they have his favor.” 

Elias’ gaze dropped to Tyrael’s pendant, lying shiny against the outside of his armor. “He can be mercurial as well. All the gods can. Don’t lean too heavily on that favor.” 

“That’s almost blasphemous of you.” Tyrael kept his tone light, to show he was teasing, trying to lift the mood, now that it had grown heavy with emotion between them. 

Elias’ lips curved into a frown, a brief one, his forehead wrinkling. “I just want you to come back.” 

Tyrael grabbed Elias and pulled him into a hug, tucking his chin over the half-elf’s shoulder, his armor creaking at the sudden pressure. “I will,” he said, and maybe it came across as a vow. 

“You’d better.” Elias pulled back and before Tyrael could say anything else, Elias pulled him into a kiss. 

A tingling wave of warmth spread outward from where their mouths met. It settled in Tyrael’s belly, curling around, nestling deep within him like a spell taking hold. Tyrael knew that feeling all too well, but he couldn’t identify this particular sensation. It felt almost like a blessing, but there was weight to it, more tangible than a fleeting gift.

“What was that?” Tyrael asked as the kiss ended, a lot more chaste than he would have expected given their history. 

Elias’ smile was not as bright as he was used to. “You’ll know when it becomes relevant.” He cupped Tyrael’s face gently. “Or, if you’re really lucky, you’ll never find out at all.” 

He pressed a kiss to Tyrael’s forehead and took a step back, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Goodbye, Tyrael.” 

“Bye, Elli.” 

Elias tipped his head in a gesture of respect and slipped out of Tyrael’s bedroom. The warmth of his touch lingered, and Tyrael brushed his cheek, that coil of sadness growing in his belly. 

He heard the front door shut. 

By the gods, he’d miss Elias so much. 

Tyrael sucked in a shuddering breath and gathered up his belongings. He slung his pack over his shoulder and gave one last look to the room which had been his for so many years, from the moment he left his childhood home. 

His bed was made. The curtains were drawn. The drawers were closed and emptied. It didn’t look like a place someone lived. Everything he needed was in his bags. 

Well, everything he could take with him at any rate. 

Tyrael spun, his boots clomping on the floor, and exited. He passed through the nave, empty of wards at this hour. He could hear them clattering through the kitchen, chattering amongst themselves. It was a familiar sound. 

One he wouldn’t hear for a long, long time. He had no idea how long Cyrillus wanted him for this quest. It could be months, years… decades. The fact he might never return sat heavy and sad in his belly, but he pushed it aside. 

He’d given his service to Cyrillus. It was the choice he’d made. 

Tyrael stepped into the bright afternoon, a bit of chill clinging to the air, but the high winter sun gamely making effort against it. Noise rose up from the city, much livelier than it had been early this morning. 

Celeste waited out front with two horses, holding the reins of both while she stroked the mane of the other, a pretty palomino. She looked up as she saw him and rolled her eyes. 

“About time,” she huffed. “Did you think you could get in a quickie before we left?” 

Tyrael was immune to her teasing now. Once upon a time, such a comment would have made him blush. “Did you tell them goodbye?” he asked instead as he took the reins of his horse from her and let them angle. 

“They know I’m leaving,” Celeste muttered. She played with the straps of her saddlebags, giving him her back. “If I’d gone back to say anything else, Auntie might’ve cast a hex on me. To keep me from going.” 

Tyrael supposed he couldn’t blame them. Both of their children – though Celeste was technically a cousin, they had been raised as siblings – were venturing out into a world rife with danger because of a deity’s calling. Well, a calling for Tyrael. Sheer stubbornness for Celeste. 

Any parent would be rightfully concerned. 

“They feel responsible for you,” Tyrael said as he pulled himself into the saddle, though not without a bit of fumbling. By the gods he’d forgotten how heavy full armor was! 

“I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.” Celeste mounted her horse as well, with far more grace than Tyrael. 

While he’d always known he’d eventually leave Anduin for Cyrillus’ calling, Celeste had been itching to get her feet on the road from the moment she came of age. She’d been eagerly awaiting word from her deity, growing more and more disappointed when it never came. 

‘Perhaps adventuring is not for you,’ Mother had told her, unable to hide the relief from her face. 

‘I’m not going to stay here forever!’ Celeste had argued, time and time again, feet stomping, hair a wild and tangled swirl around her head. 

For Tyrael, leaving was duty. 

For Celeste, leaving was a dream come true. She hadn’t been Called, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity. Tyrael was loathe to deny her. At least, if she joined his quest, he could look out for her. 

As his parents had asked. 

At least one child should come back to them. If not himself, then Tyrael would make certain Celeste would find her way home. 

“Of course you can,” Tyrael demurred. “I’m merely suggesting that you don’t leave with harsh words being the last thing you say.” 

Celeste set her jaw, hair wild about her face, which she then fixed by tying it back into a colorful scarf painted with leaves. “I’ll send them a Message once we’re far enough away,” she conceded, and arched a thick brow. “Is that good enough for you, my bossy brother?” 

“I’m not bossy.” Tyrael gripped the reins and guided his horse to the main thoroughfare, expecting Celeste to fall into pace beside him. 

“Sure you’re not.” Celeste indeed rose up beside him, one hand holding the reins with ease, the other adjusting the fall of her tabard over her thick, armored leggings. She had her warhammer across her back, in an easily accessible sling. “So where are we going?” 

“I love how you joined me on this venture without knowing anything about it,” Tyrael drawled as they started through the outskirts of Anduin, heading for the southern gates into the land beyond. “We have to cross the Argent Sea. We’re looking to charter a specific ship. That’s all I know.” 

Celeste wrinkled her nose. “Cyrillus really takes that obscurity of deities trait as far as he can, doesn’t he?” 

Tyrael shrugged, and his armor creaked and rattled. “He’s an old god. He’s got more practice in it.” 

“I’m not complaining, mind.” Celeste leaned toward him, a gust of wind tousling the curls which escaped her scarf. “The less we know, the more flexibility we have, and the more adventure we can find.” 

“You mean the more trouble.” 

“That, too!” Celeste’s voice brimmed with cheer as she settled back into her saddle. “Don’t worry, TJ. I’ll keep you alive. You can even hide behind me if it gets too scary.” 

Gods. 

He was starting to regret allowing her to come along. Though he also supposed allow was the wrong word. He didn’t allow Celeste much of anything. She’d made the decision, she’d informed him of her intentions, and he hadn’t a choice otherwise. 

The Southern Gate came into view, though to call it a gate was generous. Alduin wasn’t completely fenced. The gate was mostly for funneling wagons and other things that couldn’t climb into the city. People traveling on foot could easily climb over the three foot wall of brick and stone and wood that stretched between the southern district of Alduin, and the open, rolling plains beyond. 

Said wall was more deterrent than preventative. 

Approaching midday, the gates were flung wide open, though members of the Perceptors stood guard at the top of the gate mechanism, keeping an eye on those passing through. A few visitors trickled in, some on foot, others astride horses. A vendor trundled past Tyrael and Celeste as they exited, a rickety wagon creaking in his wake. Clangs of metal rang from beneath the tarp. 

Weapons perhaps. Or cookware. Either were possible. 

There was something inherently peaceful about their ride out of the city. Strangers smiled and nodded as they passed. While Perceptors stood guard, there was ease in the way they held themselves, crossbows lowered and pointed away. The sun shone bright, quickly warming Tyrael in his armor. 

He wondered what kind of quest Cyrillus had for him. What danger Cyrillus intended for him to forestall. What was going to disturb this gentle peace? 

The slow trickle of unease in his belly twisted and coiled into a knot. Responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders, heavier even then the weight of his platemail pauldrons. 

The whole of the Swaying Plains stretched out before him, pale in summer’s wake, and the sun glinted off the dry stalks like a golden wave. What once would have been a beautiful, satisfying sight, only filled him with dread for what waited over their horizon. 

Tyrael’s hands tightened on the reins. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Celeste asked. 

Tyrael shook his head, his braids swishing across the back of his armor. “It just struck me what this all means.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat, managed to force a smile to his lips. “Are you sure you want to do this, cousin? Follow me into the breach?” 

Celeste snorted. “You’d die without me.” 

“That’s probably true.” Tyrael managed a quiet laugh, though her comment had echoed Elias’ words somewhat, sending a sharp pang of sadness through his heart. 

They were barely fifteen minutes outside of Anduin, but he missed Elias already. The longing, he knew, would only grow with time. He would miss so many things about the city he’d spent the entirety of his life within. 

Tyrael shook himself, trying to shake off the emotions as well. He needed to keep his wits about him, as if he had any hope of surviving. 

“It’s definitely true,” Celeste said with a louder laugh and she stretched her arms up above her head with the sort of joyous exclamation of the newly freed. The sun gleamed across her brown skin, bringing out the gold tones of it. 

“Well,” Celeste chirped. “Are you done moping? Can we focus on the adventure at hand?” 

Tyrael adjusted his grip on the reins and his seat in the saddle. He gave one last check of his equipment, ensuring he had his shield, his greatsword, his stash of potions and trail rations and other various odds and ends. He couldn’t think of anything else he’d need. 

“South,” Tyrael said. “Toward Eagland. We’ll make that our first stop.” It was a day’s ride if they kept their current pace. 

It would take them at least a month to get to the southern coast. Shorter if they took the more direct and dangerous roads, but Tyrael wasn’t in a hurry to put his life on the line. They’d play it safe where they could. There’d been no urgency in Cyrillus’ summons after all, and until there was, Tyrael preferred to utilize caution. 

“Sounds good to me.” Celeste grinned the wide and bright grin of a good mood. “Let my adventure – and your stuffy quest – begin.” 

Tyrael huffed a laugh. 

At least he wasn’t going alone.

****

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged. It's been awhile since I felt inspired enough to write original fiction, so I'd love some constructive feedback. :)


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